


Black Out

by caffeinatednightowl, Mirror_Verse



Series: Mirror-Verse [63]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blackouts, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Forgotten Kiss, Hilarity Ensues, Jealousy, M/M, Memory Loss, Pining, Slice of Life, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:32:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinatednightowl/pseuds/caffeinatednightowl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirror_Verse/pseuds/Mirror_Verse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas have a bit of a rough night, wake up in a compromising position, and can't remember what happened!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Out

**Author's Note:**

> Art in fic done by [Nekoshojo](http://nekoshojo.tumblr.com)

The first thing Dean realized when he woke up was that he was face down on beige carpet. When he tried to lift up his head, the world spun and everything hurt. Fine. He’d stay there.

It may have been minutes or hours later, but eventually Dean came to the realization that he couldn’t stay face down in somebody’s carpet forever. Groaning, he attempted to shift himself, lifting his head up and blinking in the morning light. When he managed to push himself up on his knees, flashes of the night before came to him—Balthazar’s birthday, Cas begging him to come with, sitting on the couch, talking with Cas, some redheaded chick, a drinking contest and test-tube shots and then lights out.

Ugh. Dean managed to get himself shakily on his feet, his hand still covering his sensitive eyes. He didn’t like moving, but his stomach was still churning and he really needed to pee. The world began to wobble again, and that hazy hungover feeling settled in. Try as he might, Dean couldn’t quite remember how he ended up on the floor, or where he even was. Man, he must have drunk a lot—he hadn’t blacked out like that in a long time.

Hand on the doorknob, Dean managed to stumble out into the hallway, and got a look around through slit eyes. So he was still in the Novak’s apartment; that was a good sign. Though the fact that no one had woke him up meant that either it was early and the rest of the brothers were still passed out, or that they just didn’t care enough. Looking around, he pinpointed himself coming out of Gabriel and Balthazar’s shared room. Craning his neck to see slightly into the living room, Dean thought he spotted Gabe passed out on the couch, but there was no sign of Balthazar yet. Empty beer cans, plastic plates and forks that were once filled with cake, fallen streamers and red cups galore littered the floor. Looks like he was the only guest too drunk to leave last night. Great.

Though he didn’t usually hang on in the Novak’s apartment, he remembered well enough where the bathroom was. After emptying what was apparently the entire Great Lakes from his bladder, Dean went over to the sink to try to sober up. Splashing some cool water on his face seemed to help, though he knew through experience he was gonna feel that headache for a while.

Blinking, Dean looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was mussed up, as expected for passing out on the floor, his shirt rumbled and wrinkled, and then he saw  _them._

Dean stared, blinked again, and tilted his head up to get a closer look. Yep, those were grade-A hickeys, covering the right side of his neck. Whoa. Okay. Apparently he got some action last night. Since he woke up in his clothes, it probably wasn’t much action (he was fairly certain that if he was drunk enough to black out, he wouldn’t have been able to figure out how to put the catch back on his jeans), but still.

If this was years ago, he would have congratulated himself, attempted to find out who the lucky lady or dude was and maybe want see them again as soon as possible. But this was now and given that he remembered coming to the party with Cas, he felt guilt start to pool up inside him. It didn’t matter if he was drunk, how much of a shitty friend was he, to dump Cas and go makeout with some random person? Feeling like he was punched in the gut, Dean hung his head, knowing that it was gonna take a lot of apologies before Cas forgave him. Again.

Sighing, Dean moved his hand to his pocket, and it was comforting to see his phone and wallet were still there. Taking out his phone, he leaned back against the bathroom counter and dialed Cas.

He heard the phone ring on the line…and that annoying old-timey phone ringing sound somewhere nearby, too. Was Cas still here? Gulping a nervous breath of air, Dean opened the door of the bathroom and followed the sound back to Gabe and Balthazar’s  room. That room? Wasn’t that where he…?

Pushing open the door, Dean now got a view of the whole room. He must have woken up on the floor near the door, next to Gabe’s bed because now he could see both beds, (he was going to ignore the video camera set on Gabe’s bedside table) and sprawled out on top of Gabe’s bed was Cas, who was sleepily blinking open his eyes and reaching for his phone.

“Cas?” Dean switched off his phone and came over to the bed. “Cas, you in there, man?”

“Ugh,” Cas groaned, sitting up and clutching his head. “Dean, what? My head…”

Dean laughed; poor guy could never handle his hangovers well. At least Cas wasn’t angry with him, for now. “Come on, sleepyhead, we’re gonna—” That’s when Dean noticed something strange about all of this. Cas’s belt buckle was undone (though his pants still appeared to be on, thank goodness), and he would have thought that his friend got up to pee in the middle of the night and just forgot, but then he noticed that Cas’s shirt was rumpled in the same way, his hair messier than usual.

“What happened last night?” Cas groaned, turning back to Dean, “I can’t remember—” And then there they were, clear as day. Hickeys. On the right side of Cas’s neck. Just about in the same place as—

Cas must’ve seen his face; saw the wheels turning  in his head. “Dean?” His sudden intake of breath meant he must’ve seen Dean’s hickeys.

Dean saw the hurt in Cas’s eyes and stammered back, “Wait, Cas, you’ve…” he pointed to the spots on Cas’s neck, unable to say anything further. Confused, Cas lifted his hand to his neck, wincing when he hit the bruises and sure enough, the light clicked on in Cas’s head.

Unable to take that shocked-slash-confused-slash-embarrassed look on Cas’s face, Dean rested his head in his hands. He might need more liquor to handle this.

———————————————————————————-

Somehow, both of them ended up at the Novak’s kitchen table, too stunned to say anything to each other. In fact, they both had avoided looking at each other since then, too embarrassed to contemplate it. Try as he might, Dean couldn’t remember much from the night before. He remembered there were a lot of people there, and he and Cas felt out of place, so Balthazar brought them a plate of test tube shots and encouraged them to drink up. Dean had then laughed and challenged Cas to a drinking contest, sure he could drink his best friend under the table and then nothing. A big giant black blank until he woke up on the floor of Gabe’s room.

Though the idea seemed impossible, the idea that it  _might_  have happened sent thrills running up Dean’s spine. Was it possible both he and Cas had gotten completely wasted, and somehow that resulted in them making out with each other? Waking up in the same room together, with similar marks seemed to point to this, but, well, he was too nervous to voice his suspicions. What if it did happen, but it wasn’t a fireworks-exploding, glorious moment of his dreams coming true, and instead Cas thought it meant nothing at all; that it was just something that happens sometimes when people get drunk? What if Cas was disgusted, and upset, and never wanted to mention it again? What if—

“I wondered where you two went last night,” Gabriel, now awake, laughed, as he went to make coffee. “I didn’t see you guys, so I assumed you went home. I passed out on the couch before I could check my room.”

“And I was busy getting lucky with the beautiful Italian boy down the street at his place,” Balthazar grinned, causing Gabe to look a bit squicked out. “So,” Balthazar said, setting down at the kitchen table, causing Cas to slink slightly in his seat. While Cas tended to clam up around his brothers, he was never like this, and then Dean realized that when Cas scrunched his shoulders like that, his longer hair and shirt collar was able to effectively hide the hickeys from view. Dean, on the other hand… “Have fun with Anna last night?” Balthazar snickered, gesturing to the bruises on Dean’s neck.

A hand flew to cover them, and Dean thought up about ten different ways to say “Fuck off, asshole!” when something about that statement caught him off guard. “Anna?”

The inevitable crushing feeling in Dean’s chest only got worse as Balthazar continued, “Yeah, she was all over you last night, remember? Made me wonder if you and Cassie have a little open-relationship thing worked out, since he was right there when she was all up on you and sitting on your lap and—”

Cas slammed his hands on the table, cutting off Balthazar’s words. Castiel looked right up at his brother, anger flashing in his blue eyes, and snarled, “You know what, fuck you.” Holy shit, Cas was maybe picking up a little too much of his vibrant vocabulary. Cas jerked up out of his seat, marching out of the door of the apartment, slamming it before anyone could stop him. Dean wanted to go after him, but he knew it would do no good.

Damnit, did something between him and some chick really happen? No wonder Cas was so upset…man, this was all his fault…

“Cassie?” Balthazar said, seconds after Cas slammed the door. Turning back to Dean, Balthazar grinned, “Well, touched a nerve, didn’t we?

Gabriel sighed, rubbing his forehead; he either had a massive hangover or was, for once, legitimately embarrassed about his brother. Or both. “I’ll go check on Cas,” he said, in a way that, for once, didn’t sound like he was going to pick on him. Once Gabe had left, Balthazar rounded on Dean.

“Are you telling me that Cas  _wasn’t_  okay with it? What the Hell were you thinking then, letting Anna all on you like that—”

“Listen, fuckface,” Dean growled, fighting down the urge to punch something; Cas would probably be angry if Dean maimed one of his brothers. “I _don’t fucking remember_ , okay? Neither of us do and I would appreciate it if you would lay the fuck off—”

“Oh, dear,” said Balthazar, his smug grin fading. “Oh, that was not planned,” he sighed to himself, sitting down at the kitchen table.

“What wasn’t planned, asshole?”

“You remember the test tube shots?” asked Balthazar, looking sincere this time. Dean decided that maybe he wasn’t picking on him, for once.

“Kinda…” The memory was a bit fuzzy, like looking through a blurry window, but he did remember something about test tube shots. And challenging Cas to a drinking contest with them. And then drinking a lot of them.

“I thought it would be funny if I poured Everclear in them instead of vodka. You know, get you two wasted so you might finally end up dry humping in a closet or something.” Dean’s stomach gave a lurch; we’ll, that’s what he had assumed had happened, until…

“You got us wasted enough that we both blacked out, so mission-fucking-mostly-accomplished,” Dean gave a hollow laugh. Damnit, this was a mess. Somehow his mystery makeout partner was a chick after all (who the fuck did Cas make out with then?), Cas was furious about it (he probably ditched Cas in the middle of the party, and that must’ve made the guy pretty pissed) and the worst part was he couldn’t remember a thing about it. There was just no way to apologize to Cas without knowing the full details, so even if the idea made him wanna puke, he had to ask. “Hey, this Anna chick…you got her number? And before you say anything, asshole, this is just about finding out what happened last night, understand?”

——————————————————————-

Cas had planned on walking all the way home; Dean’s Impala was parked on the street, but just looking at it made him sick. The whole thing was sick. His head was swimming and his stomach was thrashing in his gut, but whether it was due to being hungover or the emotional turmoil, he didn’t know.

Of course. He should’ve figured it would be something like this. No matter what he thought initially—whatever fantasies leapt to his mind when he saw the evidence of the night before on both of them—it was just too good to be true. Something like that would’ve never happened, he was sure of it, no matter how drunk and uninhibited he and Dean might have been.

So Dean had found some gorgeous woman to be with and as for himself, he wasn’t sure. There had to have been someone. But  _who_ , and more importantly,  _why?_

“Cas!” Cas stopped on the sidewalk, turning back to see Gabriel running up to him.

“What do you want?” Cas scowled. Was he gonna make fun of him? Tell him he was sorry all of this turned out to be a big misunderstanding?

“I wanted to see if you were all right,” said Gabe, looking at him with pity in his eyes. Castiel didn’t want pity. He was an idiot; he just wanted to be left alone.

“I’m fine,” Castiel snapped, turning back to walk on, but Gabriel stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“No, you’re not,” Gabriel said. “Look, you’re upset, I get it, okay? I know Dean’s more than a friend to you and this must hurt pretty hard.”

Cas clenched his hands into fists to stop his fingers from shaking. His whole body was shaking. He wanted to cry; he wanted to scream. What he didn’t want to do was stand here and talk to Gabriel about it outside under the too-bright sun and yet… “I don’t remember anything,” Cas managed to get out in a weak voice, staring at the cracked pavement. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad if I did.”

“Wait,” Gabriel looked at him, confused. “You don’t remember  _anything?_  Not even Meg?”

“ _Meg?”_  Cas looked up at Gabriel, surprised, wondering if he was serious. “What do you mean, Meg?”

“Well, she was there,” Gabriel point out. “I saw you talking to her at some point in the night. She seemed…well, pretty interested in taking things further.”

Cas gulped. Taking things further? Gabriel didn’t think…Castiel threw up a hand to his neck, to cover the marks that were there. Were they there because of  _Meg?_  He didn’t really like her too much, but if Dean had found a girl to get some action with, and if Meg had offered, he might just have accepted, in a heat of the moment, jealously irrational thing.

This was only getting worse and worse.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Cas said, “Thank you, Gabriel.” He resolved to call Meg as soon as he was able to get home. She gave him her number once, and he was sure it was still around somewhere.

——————————————————————————

So, this was Anna. Balthazar had called her up and arranged a meeting at the local burger joint and well, she was pretty much what Dean expected. Tall, but not too tall, not really buxom or flat, and long, wavy red hair. He didn’t remember much about the night before, but that red hair did stick out in his mind.

Damnit, he was the worst best friend  _ever._

“Look, I don’t want you getting the wrong idea,” Dean said, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he sat down in a booth, Anna following. She was very lean and moved graceful, like a dancer. For a brief moment, Dean wondered if she was as flexible as the dancer he knew freshman year, and then mentally kicked himself for it. “Here’s the thing,” Dean swallowed, unsure what he was nervous about—everyone gets drunk and fucks up a little; it happens.

Though not everyone fucks up badly enough that their best friend is so pissed he’ll probably never talk to him again.

“Look, last night I was—”

“Wasted?” Anna finished for him, the corners of her mouth turning upward in amusement.

“Yeah, yeah, that,” said Dean, unknowing why he suddenly felt like blushing. “Look, I don’t—I don’t  _remember_ anything from last night and it’s kind of important that I fill in those gaps so could you do me a solid and just tell me what happened?”

“You don’t remember anything?” she said, “Well, there’s a way to make a girl feel inadequate.”

“Look, just—just tell me what went on, okay?” Dean said, feeling more flustered than before. “It’s kind of important.”

Anna sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “Well, one thing you should know about me; when I get drunk, like  _really_  drunk, I get pretty horny. So what happened was, I was drunk, I was at the party, and then I look over and see  _you_  sitting on the couch, no other girl in sight, and yeah, I kind of pounced.”

“ _Pounced_?” Dean found himself repeating. What, was he a piece of meat now?

“Well, yeah, you were just sitting on the couch with some other guy, and talking—I think you still had one of those test-tube shots in your hand or something, you guys were obviously a bit tipsy—but I didn’t see any other girls up on you, so I thought you might be up for a bit of fun.”

Wow, way to make a guy feel objectified. A few years ago, that would’ve thrilled him, but now…This conversation was getting further and further outside his comfort zone. “Okay, so what, you came up to me and propositioned me?”

“I came up and just plopped myself right in your lap, yeah.”

Dean opened his mouth. He shut it. He opened it again. “Um, come again?”

Anna smiled a bit, “I told you, I get massively horny when I’m drunk and just kind of go with the first thought that came into my head and try to do whatever crazy idea I get right then.”

“And your ‘crazy idea’ was…?”

“You.”

Okay then. “So I just…let you sit there?”

Anna shrugged, “Well, when you didn’t push me off right away, I thought that was all the permission I needed. I might’ve said some things about how I could show you a good time and started whispering all sorts of things in your ear, kissing your neck, you know—”

“Okay, okay,” Dean rested his head in his hands. Jesus Christ, no wonder Cas was so pissed at him. How could he do something like that in front of  _Cas?_  Drunk or not… “So did anything _…else_ …happen?” His voice was oddly squeaky at this point.

“You didn’t get lucky if that’s what you mean,” Anna laughed. “That whole thing didn’t last long; I remember you said a few things, but I ignored them—drunk off my ass, remember—I think you were trying to let me down easy but I didn’t get it. Then your friend stormed off, and you finally just kind of pushed me off gently and went after him. And that’s it.”

“So that’s it?” Well, that explained where the mystery hickeys came from, but if that was really it, then…

“Yeah, that’s it. Look, I’m sorry, okay,” And she did look genuinely sorry, or she was at least doing a really good impression of it. “I didn’t realize it at the time, it was only after Balthazar called me that I put it all together…I mean, no wonder your boyfriend is pissed.”

Oh,  _Jeez._  “Look—we’re not—” Dean stammered, red as a tomato. Well, even if Anna was getting the wrong idea, at least the truth wasn’t as bad as it could have been…

But if that solved the case of his mysterious hickeys, then, what about  _Cas?_

————————————————————-

“It’s been a while, Clarence,” Meg smiled, as she stepped behind the Celestial Café to see a frowning Castiel standing there. “Well, not that long, anyway—we saw each other last night, don’t you remember?”

“That’s why I called,” Cas folded his arms; she was only here so he could learn the truth, nothing more. Though Dean would flip if he learned Cas had called her. “I just need you to answer a few questions for me.”

“Oh, anything for you, Angel Boy,” she smirked, sashaying toward him, her boots clicking on the pavement.

“ _Angel Boy?”_  Cas stammered at the nickname.

“What?” Meg shrugged. “I went to Sunday School too, ‘Angel of Thursday’. Besides, I think the name suits you. You’ve got the most heavenly blue eyes I’ve ever seen, Angel Face.”

Cas swallowed, choosing to ignore that comment. “Look, I’m not here because of a social call. I need answers. Look, I really don’t remember anything that happened last night, and I need you to tell me all that went on between us.”

The grin Meg gave him was one that he swore he saw on hyenas on the Discovery Channel once. “Oh, you don’t remember anything at all, do you? You don’t know how much that  _hurts_  me, Clarence. I thought what we had was special.”

“Damnit,” Cas yelled, slamming his fist against the wall, trapping her there against it. “I am getting real tired of your  _shit!_ ”

Though that only seemed to egg her on, as she smirked and said, “Come on, Angel Boy, I love it when you get rough. Makes my nethers all quiver-y.”

“Just tell me what happened,” Snarled Cas, seriously reconsidering that whole  _never-hit-a-girl_  thing. If he was going to be honest with himself, he couldn’t deny that Meg was at least attractive, but it was crap like this that kept him from being attracted  _to_  her. The only person he could ever imagine being with intimately was Dean, and now any chance of that was probably shot to Hell because of this woman right in front of him.

Meg gave a heavy sigh, as if something as simple as telling the truth was a burden almost too great to bear. “Look, Clarence, I don’t know what your friend Dean-o said to upset you, but you clearly just wanted to get some revenge. And look, I was okay with it,  _enjoyed it_ , even.” Meg said, grinning. “Hell, I was having the time of my life until Deany-baby came over, looking like someone pissed in his Cheerios, and dragged you off somewhere to presumably yell and then talk about his violated girlish feelings.”

Cas swallowed, feeling as if a knife was shoved through his ribs. Oh god, did he actually…? But Meg kept on grinning, and though he knew she often liked to tease him, it didn’t look like she was lying. “What did we do?” he asked, mouth dry.

“Oh you know, the usual,” Meg smirked. “Talked a little, you put on your whole Secretly-A-Sexy-Bastard game face on, you rambled on about how your boyfriend is an ass, and you know, things were gonna lead to one way or another until—oh, what have you got there?” Meg laughed, pointing at the hickeys on Cas’s neck.

That was it; Cas couldn’t take any more of this. Feeling like he was going to throw up, he turned on his heel and marched away, wanting to go back home and bury himself in bed and just forget about everything ever—

“Call me, Angel Face!” Meg sneered from behind him, and that was as much as Cas could take before he sprinted to the bus stop, drowning in self-loathing and disgust with himself.

———————————————————

When Cas got home that night, he sat on his bed and stared at his phone for what felt like hours. He watched the minutes tick away on the screen, hoping that at some point he’d get the courage to call Dean.

He didn’t know why he had to call Dean—it would be easier just to forget about this and wish it never happened—but Dean deserved to know the truth, at least. Though hearing what Dean might’ve done with this Anna woman might make him want to cry in the end.

Still, he’d have to man up. Dean and him weren’t  _together._  Dean didn’t even know how Castiel felt…it was perfectly reasonable that Dean might want to have some fun with a pretty girl he met at a party, the only unacceptable thing was his own apparent reaction to it. Just the idea of kissing Meg in an attempt to piss Dean off just felt wrong and disturbing.

Sighing, Cas looked down at his phone once more, his thumb still frozen on the unlock button. He really should just call Dean and get it over with…

That was when the phone buzzed in his hand, the old-timey phone sound ringing. Cas stared at the screen; Dean was calling. Feeling even sicker, he let the phone ring three times before answering, knowing he would regret this decision. “Dean?” he said in a hollow-sick sounding voice.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean answered, apparently attempting to sound too casual. “So…you okay, man? Your hangover good?”

“My hangover was over hours ago, Dean,” replied Cas. “Is there a reason you are calling?”

Pause. Now this was awkward. He would have to say something to break this awful silence that was killing him. “Look, Cas, I’m—“

“Sorry,” Cas said, at the same time Dean said it. Another pause. Great.

“I—” Dean began, sounding nervous and clearly attempting to search for the right words. “I was an ass, I guess. I let some chick get all up on me while you were right there; major dick move.”

“You’re right; you should’ve waited until you were alone in a bedroom,” Cas’s mouth moved before he could stop it, the bitter words thick on his tongue.

“Look, man,  _I’m sorry_ , I was too drunk to process when some chick out of nowhere comes and sits in my lap and starts feeling me up, okay? Whatever the hell you might think, this hasn’t actually happened before and I didn’t know what to do. I think, anyway. But what about you? Gabe said something about fucking  _Meg?_ ”

“I do not think I had sexual intercourse with her,” scowled Cas.

“Ha-ha,  _smartass_ , but you definitely got some action in there,” said Dean, bitterly. “I mean  _really? Meg?_ ”

 “You say you do not know what provoked you to last night’s actions, so I have the same answer to give you,” Cas snapped at him, though he knew perfectly well why he had made out—kissed—whatever he did—with Meg. Jealousy was something he wasn’t immune to feeling.

“Dude, any girl in the room, and you picked  _Meg—”_

“Are you finished?” Cas demanded, his fingers clenching around his cell phone, ready to throw it at the wall if necessary.

There was a sigh on the other end. “Look, Cas, we can go about this whole blame game all night, or we can attempt to fix it. I’m sorry for what happened last night, okay? Balthazar spiked our shots and we got way drunk off our asses, and shit happens. Next time, we’ll watch our drinks, and this shit won’t happen, deal?”

Cas wasn’t so sure of the nature of the truce. It would be a long time before he forgot that Dean Winchester would rather have a drunk girl at a party grind on him than even give him the time of day. Still, last time they had a fight, it was killing him near the end. He didn’t want to go through that again, especially since faulting people for what they did while totally wasted was, as Dean would have said, a ‘dick move’. “Deal.”

“Good. Now we have got to have our usual Saturday night routine tomorrow—Indiana Jones marathon on TV, you are coming over and you will have to put up with me reciting all the lines of  _Raiders_ and  _Last Crusade_ ; this is not optional.”

Try as he might, Cas couldn’t help the smile. “Sure.”

————————————————————-

Lucifer emerged from his room when he heard Gabriel talking in the living room. “Glad you worked everything out, Cassie.” A pause. So Gabriel was on the phone. “Haha, yeah I guess…Well, now you learned a valuable lesson, little bro. Next time Dean Winchester is drunk off his ass, jump him before others get a chance…Yes, I know I’m an asshole. You love me anyway. Later, bro!”

Walking into the living room, Lucifer saw Gabriel sitting up from the couch, putting his phone away. Smirking when he saw him, Gabe said, “Haven’t seen you around much, Luci! Where were you last night?”

“I was away until late last night,” Lucifer grunted, heading into the kitchen toward the fridge. “You think I wanted to be subjected to the madness that is Balthazar’s parties?”

Gabriel laughed, “Well, you missed out on some fun. And some madness, too. Poor Castiel and his Not-Boyfriend got so drunk, they apparently made out with other people, passed out in the same room together, and then woke up and forgot about it. It was sad but also a little bit hilarious watching them both scurry around trying to piece everything together.”

Lucifer paused, his hand halfway to the milk. Normally, he didn’t care what his brothers did, but this was just…strange. “They what?” he asked, turning back towards Gabriel.

“Yeah, funny, isn’t it?” Gabriel laughed. “Poor Cassie though, had to watch as some chick apparently felt up Dean right in front of him, and then Cassie went and tried to get revenge by making out with that skank Meg, of all people and, yeah it was a bit of a clusterfuck, but it was made funny by the fact that apparently neither of them remember this at all. It is odd though…”

“Odd?” Lucifer was never intrigued by what his brothers got up to, but this…this was too strange. Especially since—

“Yeah, I mean,” Gabriel scratched behind his head. “Both Dean-o and Cas had some massive hickeys going on this morning, and even if Anna is a bit…well, straight to the point, it seems strange that she had the time to sit there and suck bruises into Dean’s neck and he was perfectly okay with that while Cas was  _right there._  And Cas says Meg told him they did get a little bit of liplock, but I remember Cas speaking to her, and there was no “liplock” to be seen before Dean dragged him away. Still, I guess that’s what happened; it’s the only explanation that makes sense, right? Dean and Cassie are still too emotionally stunted to just do the easiest thing when wasted and make out with each other.”

“…Right,” Said Lucifer, looking away from Gabriel with shifty eyes. “Look, I gotta go pick up Samandriel at the Weiner Hut now. Going to see Tessa there, so if you or Baltahzar call me again when I’m in the middle of a date to annoy me, I will personally kill you.”

“Duly noted, Luci,” Gabriel smirked. “Have fun!”

—————————————-

“I am so glad we had a date last night,” Lucifer sighed, settling into the Weiner Hut booth with Tessa. “Apparently my brother’s birthday party was more than just drinks and debauchery; hearts were broken as well.”

“Oh?” Asked Tessa, amused. “Sounds like a good time.”

“Ha-ha,” Lucifer scowled, pushing aside his hamburger and fries basket to reach into his pocket and retrieve his cell phone. “Apparently, one of my younger brothers and his best-friend-slash-almost-boyfriend had a little tiff where they tried to make each other jealous by being with other people and it almost killed their relationship when they woke up this morning, had blacked it all out, and tried to piece it all together. Except…”

“Except?” Asked Tessa, a french fry halfway to her mouth.

Lucifer found the photo in his gallery, and handed the phone over to her. “When I got home, I heard noises in Gabriel and Baltahzar’s room, and thought it was Balthazar screwing around. The door was slightly open, so I took out my phone and snapped a pic without looking in there, thinking I could use it as blackmail. Instead it’s…”

“Oh, my,” Tessa said, laughing. “So they don’t remember at all?”

“Apparently not,” said Lucifer, accepting the phone back from her.

“So, are you going to tell them?”

Lucifer looked down at the photograph on his phone. Though it was dark in the room, the outlines of Dean and Castiel could clearly be picked out, with both of them wrapped around each other, lips locked, clinging on to each other like they would die if they pulled apart. “Are you kidding?” he said. “They apparently don’t remember and somehow just managed to patch things up. This would only make things worse.”

Without another thought, Lucifer’s thumb hit the button,  _delete._

 


End file.
